


Best For Last

by bayleaf



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, PATD decaydance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-31
Updated: 2007-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-02 19:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayleaf/pseuds/bayleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Decaydance Fest afterparty gets crazier than expected. Brendon is practicing to become a Porn Ninja, and there is never enough beer to make that okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best For Last

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to giddygeek for her usual intensive beta, and also to strangecobwebs, trixiesfic, kassrachel and sanj for their assorted read-throughs, suggestions, hand-holding, and cheerleading.

As soon as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, Spencer could hear shouts and laughter from down the hall. People he knew only vaguely by sight lifted their glasses to him as he passed, and he nodded back. Travis was lounging against the wall opposite looking thoughtful. He was staring down the hall toward Pete's suite. Spencer followed his eyes and didn't see anything particularly interesting, unless you counted the Butcher breathing heavily and looking surprised and even more rumpled than usual. Gabe was right beside him, licking his lips and laughing. They were both looking towards the Fall Out Boy suite, too. In fact, there were people all the way down the hall looking hot and bothered and just a little bit mussed.

It was a little bit disconcerting, actually.

The door at the end of the hall slammed open and Joe came stumbling out laughing, one hand clapped to the hickey that was forming on his neck. The thing was huge and already a dark purple. It kind of reminded Spencer of the time in the fifth grade Ryan put a vacuum attachment to his forehead, just to see if it would stay on its own. You could see the mark for over a month, even with the half a pound of concealer he put on every morning.

"Spencer," Joe said when he caught his eye. "Dude. You have got to get in there. You don't want to miss out."

"On what?" he asked, but Joe's attention had already wandered. He pressed a Dixie cup full of some mystery drink into Spencer's hand as he brushed past him.

"Travis," Joe said, his voice low and kind of sleazy. "Travie. Just the man I've been looking for. You got some herb you feel like sharing?"

When Spencer opened the door at the end of the hall, he was hit with a blast of noise. Most of it, he found, came from people who were laughing and shouting encouragement at Brendon. For once, Brendon wasn't making any noise himself.

He was busy kissing Pete.

They were standing just a few steps into the room and Brendon had Pete bent back over his arm. The only thing keeping it from looking like an old-fashioned screen kiss was the way Pete was humping Brendon's leg. Spencer wasn't sure, but he was fairly certain that Katherine Hepburn had never tried to hump Clark Gable.

It was a little like wandering into an alternate universe, one where Brendon was in heat or maybe possessed. Spencer took a slug from the Dixie cup and grimaced at the burn. It didn't help make the scene disappear; Brendon was still at it, tonguing Pete to within an inch of his life. Spencer drained the cup before Brendon finally stood up.

The ring of people around him cheered, and he raised his arms in victory. Pete was laughing so hard he couldn't even stand up straight. When Brendon turned to Dirty and said, "Gimme some love," Pete actually fell over, whooping with laughter.

Fortunately Brendon only gave Dirty a quick peck on the lips before releasing him. Still, the sight was horrifying enough to make Spencer pluck a beer out of Disashi's hand and toss back a swig. It was like the worst drinking game in the history of ever. Spencer gave it half an hour, tops, before he was completely shit-faced. He sincerely hoped Brendon stopped before anyone died of alcohol poisoning.

"Do Patrick next," Pete said, still braying with laughter on the floor.

Brendon grinned hugely at the attention, and turned to Patrick with his arms outstretched. He was probably not stopping soon, then. Spencer drained the bottle and reached out blindly. Someone took it away and replaced it with a full one, still dripping from the cooler of ice.

Patrick mumbled, "No, thanks," and tugged the brim of his hat further down.

His protest was nearly drowned out by Pete, "Come on, Stump. Don't be a wuss."

Spencer watched Pete grab hold of Patrick's leg to keep him from escaping. Patrick tried to shake him off, but Pete was tenacious, clinging like a vine. Or a lemur on crack.

Brendon swooped in while Patrick was distracted and planted a wet, smacking kiss on his cheek. Patrick scrubbed his face with his shirtsleeve. "No, do it right," Pete said, insistent.

Brendon hesitated, then put his hand on the back of Patrick's neck to draw him closer. Pete sat back, triumphant, when Brendon went for it. Spencer heard Patrick squeak from his vantage point several feet away. Brendon hummed contentedly and licked his way into Patrick's mouth.

For the space of four heartbeats, Pete was completely silent, staring. Spencer couldn't really blame him. It was mesmerizing. Brendon was focused, intent like he was in practice only more…personal.

So to speak.

Patrick stood stiff and then slowly relaxed, one hand coming to rest on Brendon's back, the other on his hip. But as soon as Patrick tipped his head, Pete was grabbing for him, crowing "Yes!" and the moment was broken. Patrick jerked away from Brendon, breathless. He seemed to come back to himself, realizing that everyone was staring. He flushed a dark red.

"Get the fuck off me," Patrick said, kicking his way free from Pete's grasp. He managed to get away, but stumbled into Spencer in the process, which caused Spencer's beer to slosh over his hand and down his wrist.

"Shit," Spencer said, moving his hand out away from his body to keep the beer from drenching his t-shirt.

"Sorry," Patrick said, eeling his way into the crowd. He seemed to be heading in the direction of the beer. Spencer could certainly sympathize. If he had to deal with Pete on a regular basis, well. He'd buy stock in Sam Adams.

Pete was still sitting where Patrick had left him, staring forlornly at Patrick's retreating back. This whole situation was weirder than Spencer had expected, which frankly was saying something. He rolled his eyes and pushed his hair back out of his face.

His movement had drawn Pete's attention. Pete scrambled up off the floor, holding his arms out wide.

"Spencer!" Pete said, grabbing Spencer into a hug. "Spencer Smith, my second-favorite drummer!"

This, Spencer thought, could not end well. When Pete looked this happy it rarely meant good things for the people around him. Spencer tried to edge away. There were so many people crowded into the room that it was impossible to move quickly. Pete's hold tightened, pulling Spencer closer.

"Spencer James Smith the Fifth!" Pete was laughing loudly. "Have I got a treat for you!"

Spencer tried and failed to peel Pete's hand off the back of his neck. Clearly Pete was wise to the ways of people trying to escape his grip.

"I've already seen your dick," Spencer said in the driest tone he could muster, "I don't think I'd call it a 'treat.'"

Pete grinned and shook him a little. "Dude, my dick is awesome, don't even lie. But this is a different treat." He gestured at Brendon, who was busy climbing Charlie like a tree. Jon Walker was standing beside them, grinning. His mouth, Spencer thought, looked red and suspiciously well-kissed.

Spencer started struggling in earnest, which only made Pete laugh harder. "I will kill you in your sleep," Spencer hissed, trying to elbow Pete in the gut. Unfortunately they were pressed too closely together for Spencer to get any kind of momentum.

"No, no," Pete was giggling too hard to get the words out clearly. "Just lay back and think of Blink-182. I promise, it won't hurt a bit." He turned to holler, "Hey! Grasshopper! Get your ass over here!" Brendon licked a stripe up Charlie's face, and then slid back down to the floor. He started working his way through the crowd toward the spot where Pete had Spencer trapped.

Spencer's life didn't exactly flash before his eyes, but he was certainly replaying all the horror stories that Patrick had shared about the four-guys-in-a-van days of Fall Out Boy.

Brendon was out of breath when he finally arrived at Spencer's side. He was flushed pink and just a little bit sweaty. His pale purple hoodie was riding up just enough to reveal the elastic waistband of his underwear and a pale strip of belly. He hadn't gelled his hair after his shower and it looked soft and kind of fluffy.

"Hey," he said, "I'm kissing everyone on the label." He smiled. It wasn't the brash, showy smile he used when he was mugging for an audience but a real one, small and kind of shy. "You want in?"

"Of course he does," Pete said. "Do it!"

Patrick reappeared beside them, his beer already half empty. "You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable," he announced to the air over Spencer's left shoulder. "It's okay to say no."

Pete clamped a hand over his mouth and whispered, "Don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's saying, probably drunk." He mimed taking a drink, and then rolled his eyes. "You have to do it, read your contract. It's in the small print."

"Yeah," Spencer said vaguely, staring at Brendon's mouth. "Um. Okay."

Pete whooped, clapping a hand to Spencer's back, and Brendon's smile widened. He put his hands on Spencer's shoulders and leaned in slowly, slowly. The first kiss went a little wide, just a quick press at the corner of Spencer's mouth. The second one was right on target. It was warm and wet and overlaid with the faint taste of beer.

Spencer froze for a second, and then his eyes slid closed. He lifted one hand to cup Brendon's neck. Brendon moaned, and Spencer felt it shiver through his palm. He pressed closer, tilting his head for a better angle. He pushed a hand up under Brendon's t-shirt to skim across the small of his back. Brendon moaned again, hands coming up to cup Spencer's face.

From what seemed like a long way away he heard Pete say, "Holy shit!" followed by, "Oh my god, get the camera." He sounded delighted.

Sometime during the third kiss they hit the floor. Spencer wasn't really conscious of falling. Just that one second he was kissing Brendon and the next they were horizontal and twined around each other. He had one ankle hooked behind Brendon's knee and a hand in his hair. Brendon moaned into his mouth and shoved a thigh between Spencer's legs.

Spencer tightened his grip on Brendon's hair and pressed his teeth against the corner of his jaw. Brendon writhed in response. Spencer couldn't stop his hips rocking up against Brendon's hip. He slid his hand down Brendon's back and over his ass, pulling him in tighter.

"Are you taping this?" Pete demanded above them. "This is pure fucking gold."

Spencer pulled back, breathing hard. Brendon stayed where he was, staring at Spencer while they both struggled to catch their breath.

Spencer was, well 'surprised' barely covered it. He hadn't expected this - what was this, anyway? - not in a million years. "Wow," he said, "Really?" He was proud when his voice didn't crack on the question.

Brendon nodded, "Yes," he said. "Yeah, absolutely." He started to say something else, but Pete suddenly crouched down beside them with the video camera. He was five inches away, six at the most, and cackling. They both turned to look at him - Brendon crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, Spencer flipped the bird - and then back to each other.

"Leave them alone," Patrick told Pete. "And put that away," he said, grabbing for the camera.

Pete leered at him and said, "You want to make me, Stump?" but he handed it over easily enough when Patrick put him in a headlock.

Brendon scrabbled to a standing position and offered Spencer a hand up. He didn't let go after hauling Spencer to his feet, squeezing his hand and grinning. "Well," he said, "it's been fun. But I've got to, um," he waved a hand vaguely, "go wash my car. Have a great night!" He tugged on Spencer's hand and started toward the door.

"Wait." William was standing at the front of the line that had been forming, "You don't even have a car!" Spencer flapped a hand to say goodbye, and shrugged a little bit. William looked kind of pissed.

Pete turned to Patrick and said, "Yeah, you know what? I bet the bus could use a wash." He lifted his eyebrows in what, for Pete, was probably a subtle look.

Patrick flushed red, looking surprised. "Um," he said, but the door closed behind Spencer before he could hear the rest.

***  
They were halfway down the hall when Brendon shoved Spencer against the wall and kissed him again. He was gentle, slower than he'd been in the suite. Spencer sighed into the kiss, one hand coming up to cup Brendon's jaw and keep him still. It went on for a while. Spencer was lost in the moment until a body thudded against the wall beside them and they both jumped.

William was propped up against one elbow, watching them closely. "My turn?" he asked brightly as soon as Brendon's tongue wasn't actually in Spencer's mouth any longer.

"Um," Brendon said, turning back to Spencer, "Actually, I think I'm just going to kiss him. Like, a lot." He pressed a quick, closed-mouth kiss on Spencer's lips and mumbled, "I was saving the best for last."

Spencer snorted and said, "Liar." He settled a hand on Brendon's hip and slid the other up under his shirt.

Brendon grinned at him, one of the big smiles that could outshine Vegas. "Maybe!" he said, and kissed Spencer quickly. "Come with me anyway?"

Spencer kissed him back until they were both flushed and out of breath. "Yeah," he said, smiling a little. "Absolutely."


End file.
